


The Girl Who Brings the Strawberries

by serannamyASS



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Madge's POV, hella sapphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serannamyASS/pseuds/serannamyASS
Summary: Katniss will come home, I’d said, and come home she did. She was different. Subtly, irreversibly different. But, underneath it all, she’d remained my Katniss.





	The Girl Who Brings the Strawberries

I’ve never been very good at making friends. I am, after all, the mayor’s daughter, and that is enough to cause people to keep their distance. They don’t trust me. Either that, or they think I’m stuck up.

Katniss is different. When we were at school, she possessed the aura of someone who had no time for friends. Nevertheless, she met me where I was. She made me feel wanted. As if to be me, simply, truly me, was enough.

We’re opposites, really. We must have looked funny back then, to those passing by. Where I have fair hair, Katniss has thick, dark locks. Where her upper arms are lean and strong, mine wobble.

But what of her now? Well, she hasn’t changed much. She’s quiet. Some people might be intimidated by that, but I like it. Too many speak without thinking – not her. She always says just enough, and every word is designed to improve the silence. Her voice is soft, a little deep.

She’s kind, too. She used to save a little of her lunch each day, wrapping it in a napkin to take home for her sister. She kept the best, juiciest strawberries for me. I’ve often wondered whether she did it on purpose. But no. Katniss wasn’t – and isn’t – an observant person. She has no idea, the effect she can have.

I gave her my aunt’s pin for two reasons. The first was because my aunt was brave; she held her own in one of the most brutal Games in history. The second was because I wanted Katniss to have something of me in the arena, even if only she and I knew of it.

There was no doubt in my mind that she would win. I told the cameras as much, when they came to interview me. Katniss will come home, I’d said, and come home she did. She was different. Subtly, irreversibly different. But, underneath it all, she’d remained my Katniss.

Now she teaches me to hunt. I like when she corrects my stance, when she places her hand on the small of my back and her fingers close over my own. I doubt she notices my pulse quicken.

She likes to listen to me play piano. I’m good, but I’ve never been particularly keen on it until she started visiting my house more often. I learn songs especially for her now. She’s musically minded, is Katniss, and it shows on her face when I play.

When I heard the Peacekeepers had seen fit to punish Gale, I knew at once the suffering it must had cause her, must still be causing her. And that is why I braved the snow to bring her some of my mother’s pain relievers. Perhaps a nobler person would have done so because a boy was hurt, maybe dying, but I have never claimed to be noble. And in the end, although Gale is as much to thank for summer berries as Katniss, in my mind I see her picking them for me by herself, choosing the prettiest for me alone.

The Capitol know her as the Girl Who was on Fire, but I prefer to think of her as the Girl Who Brings the Strawberries. To me, she is far sweeter than any fruit.


End file.
